Flowers from a Grave
by Tearrer
Summary: He was late. Again. Draco Malfoy runs into a spot of trouble when his bad habit results in a problem only he can see. Poor behavior, unconventional romance, and a regular dose of quirky arguments. Dramione. WIP.
1. His Restricted Conscience

**A/N:** A spiffy, random, new story. I'm trying to keep it clean and as humorous as I can get without being an idiot. I got this idea from a status update that made me laugh when it _really_ shouldn't have. Oh well, hopefully you all find the it as fun as I do and don't simply call me heartless. Enjoy!

**Flowers from a Grave:** His Restricted Conscience

It would take a cold, heartless person to commit to such a deed; a person so vile that one could only wish not to meet them in their lifetime. Alas, such a person _did_ exist. And this person just so happened to be walking near a graveyard on one sunny afternoon near the local park.

* * *

Every man has his fault, right? _Right_? Well, mine just happens to be tardiness. However, I think that I will make it a personal goal to never be late for anything ever again. Let's go back to the start, when everything was normal.

I was running late. Again. But this time I was not just 'running late,' I was so late that even the word 'fashionably' would not suffice for my absence. So now I was near running down the street looking like a mad man in a dress robe worth ten times as many galleons than any other average wizard's.

Apparition? Well, that was currently out of the question when the meeting grounds were in _muggle_ London. Yes. Muggle.

Her idea, not mine.

Did I mention that this was our first date? I wouldn't be surprised if I (yes, even _I_) was about to be instantly rejected by a woman.

Suddenly I wished my entire life wasn't on display for the entire wizarding world. Maybe a guy could get in a decent lie such as, "I was watching a younger sibling/cousin." The Malfoy family tree has so many branches that every literate person in the wizarding world _must_ have read about us at least once in the Daily Prophet, which limited the amount of viable lies I could use.

What was a man to do in my predicament? I paused my rushing about and looked at my surroundings: Lamp post, park bench, graveyard, food parlor, water fountain, little kid…

I silently weighed my options. I could either ditch her, show up hoping not to be rejected, or show up with a fabulous excuse that will melt her heart and chip away the frost that probably accumulated while I was taking my time getting ready, which resulted in the problem at hand!

Merlin's beard my life was quite a mess!

As I suddenly began to fall into a self-pitying lump on the sidewalk I spotted my escape. Flowers. Right there. So close, yet so far. So forbidden…

I looked at the temping grave that held beautiful, fresh, blood-red roses that had my date's name written all over them. But… stealing flowers from a grave? I mean… it's not as if they're of any use to the person six feet under anyways, right?

I glanced around, suddenly very aware of everything and everyone around me. No one was near enough to care what my business was, and the closest muggle to me was talking to herself with a black rectangle. (Merlin, muggles were _insane_!)

Back to the issue at hand: stealing flowers from someone's grave.

With a resolute glance around I clamored over the three-foot brick barrier between the walkway and the graveyard and strutted over to the grave as if I was normal bystander paying respect to a loved one.

Somewhere in the pit of my stomach I felt a twist where I knew my gut was telling me this was very, _very_ wrong. Yes, even Draco Malfoy has a conscious! It is just much less restricted than the others.

Anyways, since I was starting to feel uncomfortable about this I snagged the bouquet (which was a lovely choice, by the way) and was off without a second glance to the glorious headstone.

And so, I have successfully narrated the second-worst decision of my life thus far.

**Even if there's more to read, chapterly reviews are appreciated ;). Thanks for reading.**


	2. Going Mad

**A/N:** Hello again. Since I posted such a short first chapter I decided to post the second (just as short) the next day. Thanks for all the feedback (faves/alerts) and for checking out the story :). Oh, and I realize I haven't done much characterization. It's a bit intentional, as this is going to be a rather short fic. Hopefully I am able to convey their personalities through their behavior and words though. Good luck to me, I suppose.

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**Flowers from a Grave:** Going Mad

When I walked into the diner I knew snagging those flowers had been worth it, despite my protesting conscious. Was it possible to be smug at oneself? If so, that was definitely how I was feeling. Jade was glaring at me with a look of annoyance that exceeded even the likes of me when I'd have the misfortune of seeing Potter and his crew of motley idiots.

But when I sat down and showered her with the bouquet of flawless roses her eyes lit up and I knew I was a mastermind. Pure genius.

While I explained and apologized for my lateness, she gushed over the flowers, no longer sore about my lateness. _Swish, flick, and fly_.

The food was not up to standards (what else was I to expect at muggle diner?), but Jade most definitely was. Her eyes were dark and alluring, her demeanor demanding yet seductive. As long as she kept her mouth shut, there were no problems. Unless it was in reference to the latest designs of Romania and Raucci, the girl had no substance in that brain of hers. Still, her body was to kill for, so my tolerance of her was high.

It was a long day. But the night ended in my favor and the satisfaction was up to par.

* * *

And then, once again, he left her home: alone.

* * *

I didn't know what type of tricks the fates decided to play on me but _this_ was just too much. While I sat alone at the parlor in Gideon Square, a common shopping center for wizards, sipping on a spot of tea, I was frozen in my seat.

Forty feet away, standing across the square with no less than fifteen people present and busying around, Hermione Granger stood with a scowl on her face and her fists clenched in anger. Eyes on me.

I looked around to see if anyone else noticed the famous girl standing in the flesh in broad daylight. No one seemed to acknowledge her.

I wasn't sure what to do, but I was sure that I was going as mental as the muggle I had seen the day before talking into a box.

I looked away and down at the tea. Quickly, I performed a charm to see if it had been tampered with, but the results were as clear as Granger's glare in my direction. I finished the mug and stood abruptly with purpose.

I avoided looking in the direction I had seen her standing and, breathing heavily, I began to walk to the opposite side of the square to give myself distance to the hallucination.

When I looked up again, however, she was standing in front of me. At the opposite side of the square that she had _not_ been standing in moments before. I panicked and apparated as quickly as my magical nerves would allow.

* * *

I was driving myself mad. Barking _bloody_ mad!

The predicament with Granger was this: Hermione Granger was dead.

I ended up apparating to the local Quidditch pitch where I often played to keep my mind blank and body fit.

I suited up and proceeded to chase around a Snitch for about two hours before forcing myself to quit when my leg muscles ached from the maneuvers I had been experimenting with. When I dismounted my broom I heard a group of people in the stands laughing boisterously and looked up.

While there _was_ a group of wizards conversing all I could stare at was the… completely opaque, non-ghostly Granger supporting the same scowl as earlier, sitting alone at the top of the risers in a bored slouch.

I ran into the changing room, shaking my head like a madman.


	3. A Bit Testy

**A/N:** I know it has been about two weeks, but I was determined to write more to the entire story before I posted the next chapter. I did realize something while reading this chapter over, however: the take on this fiction is all about how you read it. As the author, I'm reading it in a humorous/sarcastic slant of light... for now. The dialogue is mainly bitter and meant to be sarcastic because 1) It is all Draco and 2) The situation (in his perspective, at least) sucks. Thanks for the reviews so far, I love hearing from my readers (even if it is short)!

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**Flowers from a Grave:** A Bit Testy

I was afraid to go into my house. Is that mad? I was quite sure that it was, but I didn't want to sound as if I was overreacting. Then again, I _was_ seeing my childhood enemy. Who was dead.

When I walked into the manor I wasn't sure what to expect, but the entrance hall was deserted. Mother was most likely out shopping and my father was off in the Southern Wing of the manor where he spent most of his time brooding. Not that I could blame him. He lost nearly every ounce of respect he once held with the public and his closest… comrades (since I hardly considered them his friends) at the downfall of the Dark Lord.

I averted my thoughts from him and the past and headed towards the kitchen.

On the countertop was Granger, sitting cross-legged with that same bored posture and familiar scowl.

I froze.

She was there. In the… solidified form. She wasn't transparent and she didn't float as ghosts did. She smirked devilishly.

"Granger," I managed to say, voice echoing. I had a strange feeling that I was talking to myself.

She didn't reply. I shook my head, knowing that this _must_ be a hallucination and that hallucinations should _not_ be spoken to.

So rather than acknowledge the Granger-who-wasn't-really-there again, I pulled out my wand and carried on preparing myself a meal as I had planned. As I worked, Granger seemed to get agitated by my lack of attention to her.

When I finished and picked up the plate of deliciously made spaghetti (yes, I _could_ cook for myself), Granger launched herself off of the counter to stand in front of me, and as her feet slammed to the ground without a sound, the plate cracked in my hands causing two pieces of it to slide and shatter on the hard floor, spaghetti covering my slacks and shirt.

Apparently she could break objects. With her not-really-there mind.

"What the hell did you do that for?" I growled at her silent form that was glaring at me with the same fury I remembered from our school years.

Again, she didn't reply.

"Ugly, fat cat got your tongue, Granger? You were never one for silence." I was getting annoyed by she-who-I-despised following me around like a lost puppy. She glared at me again but only crossed her hands in front of her chest and shook her head in what I took as disgust.

I muttered a cleaning spell and the mess was off of my clothing and the floor, my scrumptious meal vanished before my eyes. I looked up at her.

"You're dead?" I asked for confirmation. She rolled her eyes and shrugged, not giving a straight answer. I sighed in frustration.

"Stop following me around. Let your spirit free: go!" I flailed my arms to exaggerate my insistence for her to leave. She looked at me as if I was insane. Which I was now convinced of myself.

Might as well keep talking to the hallucination now that I'd done it once…

"What do you want? Go away!" I glared at her and stomped out of the kitchen and back into the other room. Unsurprisingly, she was already standing in front of the staircase with a determined look on her face.

She looked around the room and then pointed to my right. To a vase. With a flower in it.

_Oh…_

Bloody. Hell.

"That was _your_ grave?" I didn't need a reply to know the answer. She clenched her jaw and nodded stiffly.

"Why… _what_? That's why you've been following me around?" I stared at her in awe. I couldn't believe something so insignificant could stir a spirit.

Apparently she didn't find it as insignificant as I did because within seconds she was in front of me and poking at my chest. Or trying to at least… her finger seemed to stop just millimeters before it would touch my shirt. Her mouth was firing off words I couldn't hear.

I took a step back.

She threw up her hands in frustration, saying something that looked like 'Merlin!' and sat down on the bottom stair, setting her head in her palms, elbows resting on her knees. She looked just as annoyed about being here as I felt about it.

"Well, go back to death-world," I said pointlessly. Obviously she would have if she could. The expression on her face said the same.

"What do I have to do to get you to leave me alone?" I said without enthusiasm. Obviously the deed had to be corrected. By me.

Unfortunately for me not-a-ghost-Granger shrugged and shook her head, looking perplexed. Of course, the one time I ask Granger a question she doesn't know the damn answer! Naturally, I voiced this observation and she only yelled at me with words I couldn't hear.

"This is the best version of you I've ever met: silent," I said, smirking. I hadn't even bothered to wait for her mouth to stop moving before I began to speak. She seemed to get more frustrated by this and ended up stomping her foot on the floor like a five-year-old. It made no sound, but I didn't bother to point it out. I just wanted the girl out of my house.

"Library," I said conclusively. We ascended the stairs and I headed to the Manor's library, which was filled with a wide selection of (mostly Dark Art) books. Hopefully something useful could come from that. If not, there was always Diagon Alley. Then again, the last person I wanted to be seen with in public was Granger.

Whether or not other people could see her was beside the point.

I could already tell it was going to be a long, long day.


	4. Lost Love of Books

**A/N:** I feel like I should make my chapters longer, but simply don't care to enough ;). I thank everyone who has reviewed: you make me want to keep going. Hopefully this chapter helps explain whats going on to a certain extent.

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**Flowers from a Grave:** Lost Love of Books

In the library we managed to find a large enough stack of books to keep us busy for the day. Correction: keep _me_ busy. As it turned out, the force-that-is-Granger couldn't pick up, touch, nor feel any physical object she tried to come into contact with.

Not only did this leave me without 'me time' for the day, it required me to have Granger looking over my shoulder. Now, although I couldn't feel any type of presence, someone hovering above you is not a comfortable thing. Especially when you don't know if they're still there or not.

Granger was somewhat entertaining, however. Not only did was literally dance around the library, looking over the titles of the thousands of books, but her face was lighting up like a boy in the broomstick shop! It wasn't a familiar Granger-persona to me, but I suppose this was as lively as someone dead could become, so I put up with the theatrics.

Twice she managed to nearly scare the magic out of me when she suddenly appeared without a noise before me.

While I skimmed the various books I couldn't help but notice the longing on her expression. No, not just her expression, her entire _being_. He hands would hover over a book, getting as close as possible. She would read over the same pages if left open, just to see words on the paper she loved so much in life and forgot in death… or couldn't have in death. I didn't know.

"You miss reading? You can't… well, wherever?"

I had begun flipping the pages in her books for her while I skimmed in the ones about wizard deaths. Not surprisingly, it was a common topic in many of the books in the library.

Granger rolled her eyes at me (a common form of communication used by her as of late) and shook her head.

"That's unfortunate." I didn't know what to say, so I stuck with that. It could be taken sarcastically or not – I wasn't quite sure how I had intended it to sound but Granger didn't bother to signal any type of reply.

I had never really considered my own death. Well, let me rephrase that: I had never really considered what would become of me in death. While the war was raging the only concern _was_ death… and how to avoid it. I never got the chance to imagine where my soul (if there actually was one) would end up.

Looking at Granger sitting mesmerized at her past interest and love, I couldn't help but wonder if I was taking advantage of my own life. What about all of the things I could still do? If I wanted to hop on a broom and feel the wind against my face, I could. Granger couldn't even open a book.

She must have noted my staring because her eyes rose up to mine in the next second and she gave me a curious look but ended up looking back down to read again a moment later. I automatically flipped a page for her, which she didn't protest to.

* * *

"From what I've gathered it looks as if you've become some form of a poltergeist." I looked up from the six books spread about the table in front of me.

It was nearly one o'clock in the morning, and I was already sick of this researching business. Granger walked over to the book I was pointing at and hovered over the page, eyes on the move.

"It says that in order to be put back to rest you've got to channel your unreasonable, illogical, nutter emotions back into the state of peace that you were in when death overcame you. Then you leave and I get to sleep." I looked at her expectantly and she narrowed her eyes, followed by rolling them (again), and motioned for me to turn the page impatiently, which I did.

"Well, c'mon then, go back into peace-mode!" I insisted, she made a face and was about to open her mouth to speak but remembered it was pointless and looked down at the new page. After a moment she pointed at segment near the center of the page.

_Often, a poltergeist can reverse the peace-channeling process and instead accumulate more negative energy. In doing so, the lost earthly senses a spirit no longer experience may regenerate, allowing them to speak, smell, or touch while their trapped spirit resolves their issue._

"So if you want to regain your ability speak or stick your nose in books all day, you need some negative energy. My suggestion would be to spy on the Weasel while he goes at it with his fian-,"

The books strewn out about the table were suddenly chucked off and fell onto the floor in heaps of torn pages. I stood up abruptly, glaring at the wench.

"Those are worth more than what your life _used_ to be worth, Granger!" My eyes flashed to the ruined books that were now useless to the cause. "Why the hell am I doing this anyways? Most people are sleeping at this hour, which, now that I mention it, sounds lovely. Maybe when I wake up you'll be gone!"

I stomped off, knowing it wasn't the best way about the situation. Okay, maybe telling her about her once-boyfriend's fiancé wasn't the best idea, but _hell_ I was tired! And it was all because of her, anyways! Rather than shredding priceless books she should have been bowing at my feet in gratitude for all of my wasted time.

I slammed the door to my bedroom shut and spread out on the bed, not wanting to open my eyes to the sight of Granger's bushy hair and glaring eyes, which I knew were right there for me to see whenever I dared look up.


	5. Dangers of Dating

**A/N:** I can only apologize after a month of nothing. I feel awful, but real life came crashing. I just got situated into my new home - College! Hopefully I'll be able to update again sooner now that I am all settled in. I hope you don't drop my story due to the lack of update. Thank you, once again, to all of my reviewers and readers.

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**Flowers from a Grave:** Dangers of Dating

Hermione Granger was more annoying dead that I had ever imagined alive. Sure, in my youth I may have wished death upon her more than once so I wouldn't have to see her walking in the corridors at school (okay, so I was a bit rough around the edges, give me a break); but now that she was dead and stalking me I couldn't put a price on how much I'd be willing to spend to get rid of the wench – alive or not.

For one thing she was everywhere. She could appear through the walls, and even if I tried my best to ignore her presence her aura of _being_ was still there. Her poltergeist-persona left a bad tingling feeling all over whenever I just happened to meet her dull, but albeit angry, brown eyes.

More often then not she would suddenly cause an object to fly in my general direction (usually towards my head or bum) to snag my attention. I still ignored her.

Did I mention it's been two entire days since I last spoke to her and told her to go watch Weasley shag someone?

Well, it has. And nothing has changed. Apparently the ghost-that-never-leaves is emotionless and can't channel any strong positive _or _negative energy even when I try my best to make it happen.

The old Granger would have cracked after an hour of being ignored. Clearly death had mellowed her out a bit. Or maybe she knew what I was trying to do, which would contradict the efforts and not make her angry.

Then again, it had been two _whole_ days… waiting a littler longer wasn't going to hurt.

So, naturally, I kept up with my normal schedule (one dead stalker isn't going to change that) and went on a date.

Of course, when I arrived at the restaurant after transfiguring my casual outfit into an appropriate dress robe for a date Granger pitched quite the silent fit. Lucky for me I couldn't hear any of it.

I sat down at the table and waited for my date to arrive, ignoring Granger who took the liberty of seating herself in my date's chair, glaring all the while.

When my date unknowingly sat on Granger it took quite a bit of self-control on my part not to laugh while Granger fumed and made rude gestures unseen by the beautiful Annabel sitting before me.

From the sidelines, Granger was becoming more agitated by the second. Why, I couldn't exactly say.

I had already ignored her while running errands, stopping for a spot of tea, and visiting the bookstore for a short time (which caused more sadness to fill her eyes than anything – of course, that's not why I left so soon); I couldn't understand why going out to dinner with her tagging along would bother her so much. Probably because she couldn't eat the food.

Besides, it was her fault she had been sat on.

Oh well, she would have to comply.

Annabel and I were onto our second course of the meal, chatting casually. I was working my Malfoy Charm to its best ability, and it proved to be successful thus far.

If it wasn't for the poltergeist stalking me I would have considered it one of the best dates I'd been on in a while.

That is, until my date's platter managed to fly out of the server's arm and onto her one-of-a-kind Dilçe blouse. She screamed out in alarm.

Immediately I turned to where Granger was standing and saw her with a smug look plastered on her face.

"Go away!" I yelled in frustration, which seemed to make her satisfaction increase.

Why? Because my date was glaring at me, assuming I had been speaking to her.

"Oh, that's rich! Curse my plate to fall on me and then yell at me to leave! If you didn't like me you could have just said it politely. I don't even know why I agreed to go on this date in the first place – I should have minded all of those warnings from my girlfriends! You're nothing more than a spoiled brat, Draco Malfoy!" she yelled with a shrill voice, standing up and drawing much unwanted attention to the two of us. I narrowed my eyes but didn't speak, what warnings?

"You are unbelievable!" she said when I made no move to follow or stop her. She reached onto the table, picked up her glass, and threw the champagne I had paid for in my face.

"What the hell!" I stood up, looking down at myself in disbelief. This woman was a nutter! How could I have cursed her plate anyways? Why was she blaming me?

She huffed and pulled out her wand to clean off her shirt while stomping away.

I removed my own wand and dried myself off. I threw a handful of Galleons onto the table and strolled out of the restaurant in a way I hope looked nonchalant to any onlookers who had just witnessed the scene. Inside, however, I was fuming.

How dare this woman, who I'd been lavishing with compliments, blame _me_ for a magical mishap that was entirely _not_ my fault! She was insane if she believed that I, of all people, would commit such a lowly deed as that in public.

My tolerance of Granger was waning, and at this point I was willing to do just about anything to be rid of her…

I apparated to the quidditch pitch and proceeded to play one round with some fellow athletes in order to take my mind off of my frenzied life as of late and was pleasantly distracted by the brunette Chaser, who was an excellent flier with an excellent body even with the Quidditch gear on. I made a mental note to get her name as soon as I had an opportunity.

When we landed and bid each player a good game I make it a point to smile charmingly – which the woman blatantly dismissed. My face fell and, deciding that today was just _not_ my day, I would just forget the 'good sport' façade and left the stadium with a scowl my face.

Granger followed me all the while.


	6. Loud Silence

**A/N:** I really this chapter and it's a bit longer than usual, so I hope you all like it too. I may update again before the week is over, but don't hold me to that (or I may end up somewhere unpleasant). I'm having trouble with chapter titles that don't give away anything… who'da thunk it'd be so difficult to be creative?

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**Flowers from a Grave:** Loud Silence

Have you ever had a puppy that you, at first, didn't mind and even (dare I use this in such a metaphor?) _liked_? Did it then turn into the most maddening and barbaric mutt you've ever been within close proximity of?

If you have experienced something along these lines then you can understand why after three days of parallel torture from a similar species (i.e. Granger), I lost it.

Since I _knew_ it wasn't going to hurt her, did it count that I took a swipe at her that _almost_ would-have nicked her cheek?

Now, I don't want you to think I'd ever hit a woman, because I wouldn't. Never. If there is one thing my chivalry and overall charming self supported it is the saying 'pick on someone your own size (and sex).'

But, honestly, she _was always around_. And when she was casually looking over my shoulder for the umpteenth time that day, even after my _hundredth_ requests for her to _back off_, I snapped.

"Get away from me! Stay away – distance! You're dead, Granger, but I am NOT! My personal space still exists, and I'd like to keep it to _myself_ while it still does!"

Something along those lines spewed from my lips and it didn't take long for Granger to be Granger and get as close to me as possible without going through me. For as _long_ as possible. I didn't last a minute before my arm reacted before my mind could register the movement and, had she not moved away with an instinctive reaction, my fist would have gone right to her cheek; albeit, through it, but her cheek, nonetheless.

Her slackened jaw and her menacing eyes were the only pieces of evidence I needed to know that, if she could have been, she would have been after blood.

I was slowing processing what I had just done in my mind, genuinely surprised. If ever I wanted to apologize for something, it was that moment. Honestly.

Maybe it was her surprised expression that got me, but to know that even Granger was shocked that I would hit her was self-aggrandizing (I had, after all, surprised the always-ready, used-to-be-Gryffindor), but in the same sense made the situation _that_ _much_ more regretful. If any person were to think I'd hit a woman it should have been Granger – or so I thought. She clearly thought better of me than I thought she did… which humiliated me to an extent that rendered me speechless.

"I-I've… I'm… never…" Speechless, I tell you!

Granger, on the contrary, seemed to be full of words because as soon as my nonsensical words met her ears her mouth was moving so fast I couldn't follow it (which could also have been because I was dazed myself).

Curses, curse _words_, and torture sequences were most likely among the many things she was screaming out silently, making her eyes water and face turn red with anger. She tried to shove me and when that failed to work she seemed offended by the lack of repercussions she would be able to deliver.

But could I blame her? Definitely not.

And when she started to sob, well, I was stricken. Not only was she turning into a mess in front of me, but I didn't even know what to _say_. Not that anything I said would make her feel better, but regardless… it was the thought that counted (right?).

"Granger, I…" I didn't know. I was sorry… wasn't I? Why didn't I just say it then?

"I'm sorry…"

She made no acknowledgement to the statement and her head hung in defeat. Apparently there was something that could take down the almighty Granger… a punch through the face. (…too soon? Heh… oh well. That's just the Slytherin in me.)

When my own meant-to-be-reassuring jokes failed to make the guilt go away I knew I had to actually do something about this.

"Er… Look… We can work on getting you back… into your coffin…" I said offhandedly, trying to cheer her up.

But she started to cry harder, her sobbing causing me to want more than ever to leave the room. Even when I turned my eyes away I couldn't escape it!

"Look I knew it wouldn't hurt you…" That was a lie simply because it had been a rash action that no thought had been put into at all. It may not have hurt her but what if it could have? Would I have still done it? I couldn't even answer the question for myself.

Her crying finally calmed down but her sniffling continued. I pinched the bridge of my nose, trying to clear my head.

"Maybe there's more to this than we thought, okay? We can try researching again tonight if you want to," I said, trying to be nice. My voice sounded a bit static to my ears, but it was better than the usual malevolence I had when I talked to Granger. An upgrade from the norm was better than nothing, I suppose, even if it wasn't downright friendliness.

I looked out the window to see the sun setting in the late summer's sky over the forest surrounding the Manor's boundaries and decided that if we were going to figure this out, it was better late than never. Sighing, I turned to the sniffling Granger.

"I'm going to the library. Come if you want to, but I'll understand if you don't." Part of me felt guilty saying this, knowing that the only reason I was doing this was _because_ I was guilty.

I had a strange feeling Granger knew that, too, but she didn't make any notion to point it out.

* * *

I knew it was coming before she entered the room. Her loud stomps suddenly echoed through the floors of the manor and my entire body stiffed up in preparation for it.

"You bastard! You bloody, arrogant, self-centered, inconsiderate shell of a man! You _bastard_!"

The voice was not one I had heard for years – something that I could suddenly only appreciate once the silence had been broken.

"If you had even the slightest amount of compassion or care for anyone _other_ than yourself then maybe, just maybe, you wouldn't be alone in this house right now, dating a new woman every other day!"

"If I'm not mistaken I'm no longer alone in this side of the manor. Unfortunately." I glared hard at the bushy-haired Hermione Granger standing with a sour look in front of me. Her voice was strong and loud, her face showing no sign of crying just thirty minutes before. If there were any time in my life I wished she would disappear, it would have been then.

"Well 'if I'm not mistaken' it is entirely your fault that we are both here right now!" Hermione yelled louder than before.

"Shouldn't you be praising me for assisting you in getting your voice back?" I wouldn't relinquish, as she was already on my last nerve.

"Praising you!? If you hadn't been too lazy to buy simple flowers for someone then you wouldn't have had to help me get my voice in the first place! You even had the _nerve_ to go out womanizing while I was stuck following you around! You deserve to be handed to the Dementors, Malfoy! You, you-! Agh!" She threw her arms up in frustration and began to pace around the room angrily. My eyes never left her and my glare never faltered.

"You _hit_ me," she said, seething. I blinked at her, knowing that my neck was probably turning the _slightest_ shade of red in regret and embarrassment.

"I knew it wouldn't-," I stopped talking before she could even interrupt me. It wasn't true, after all. I swallowed guiltily. "I'm sorry," I offered, my shoulders falling only a fraction of an inch (I did still have _some_ pride, after all).

She huffed and her feet shifted, narrowing her eyes at me seriously. "I never would have pinned you as someone who would hit a woman, Malfoy. I suppose the benefit of the doubt can't be extended to sons of Death Eaters."

"I don't know what you want me to do other than tell you that I'm sorry. I suppose I could go steal some more flowers for you, gaining you a poltergeist-pal to talk to so you're no stuck with just me," I bit out sarcastically, irritated that she couldn't just accept the apology. I _was_ sorry after all.

"Why on earth would you steal my flowers, anyways, Malfoy?" she asked, voice rising again. Bloody hell, did this woman ever take a break from lecturing people?

"I was running late and needed an excuse!" I said honestly, giving her my perfectly legitimate reason. Her jaw dropped.

"…You were late? _Late_!? You… you're a wizard! For the love of all things magical…" She shook her head, looking bewildered, eyes wide. "You could have _conjured_ some flowers!"

I blinked. Then I laughed. Laughed at how ironic this entire stupid situation because, frankly, she was absolutely, completely, 100% correct. Leave it to Granger to solve my problem before it even _happens_.

Granger stared at me as I doubled over in my fit of laughter. I think I may have even seen her struggling to contain a smile, but I was distracted by my own amusement. It wasn't even all that funny, but this whole screwed up situation felt like it was beyond complaining or fixing – and at the moment laughing seemed like the only option left.

She breathed out a heavy sigh before clenching her fists and looking at me as calmly as possible, obviously having contained her anger (and amusement, I was sure) enough to speak.

"What've you found yet?" Her blood (or plasma-cosmic-innards – whatever she had) was probably boiling, but her face showed neutrality.

"I always knew you were bipolar, Granger," I said as I tried to regain my composure, the smile from my hysterical laughter was still upon my lips. "But for the sake of you getting out of my life I will let you know that I did find something quite intriguing." I gestured to the intentionally closed book to my left.

"Oh very funny, ferret." She rolled her eyes. "Go on, open it for me!" she said with annoyance, hating to ask for help. I couldn't help but feel a bit smug.

I opened the book to the appropriate page and pointed down at the passage I had already read. Granger leaned over the book and I watched at the familiar lines of concentration appear on her forehead. She took a few moments to read the passage but when she had finished she didn't pause to speak – as usual.

"So it sounds as if my death also played a part in this. Because I may have died with fury or discontent being my final emotion, the triggering of my current state was more likely to occur and you just happened to be the person to do it. Imagine that…" Her eyes shifted over to me in clear distaste and I brushed it off.

"Well, how did you die? I mean, what was exactly happening at that particular time? Who did it?" Her face fell at the questions and she stood up a bit straighter than usual. I didn't understand how that could be such a sensitive topic – we both knew she was dead, so why couldn't she just confront it? I decided I wasn't sorry for asking.

"I was… fighting, _dueling_, with Travers. I was able to incapacitate him when I heard Ginny shouting for help, so I ran in the direction of her voice. And then I died," she said everything in a curt tone, keeping it as simple and concise as possible. I furrowed my brow.

"You didn't see anyone?" I asked incredulously.

"Well, of course I was moving around loads people but from what I recall the people were either on my side or already dueling with someone else."

Unfortunately, this put us at a blockade. How were we supposed to figure out who murdered her and with what curse? While it was most likely _Avada Kedavra_, they needed to be sure.

The answer to their problem was clear. I was filled with resentment before either of us even spoke.

"I'm not doing it." My jaw clenched out of habit.

"Well it's obviously the only solution we have, Malfoy!" She glared hard at me, looking vicious. "How _else_ am I supposed to leave you to live your life?"

A valid point, I had to admit.

Sighing I said, "I could check the ministry first. Possibly run a check through some people I know…"

"That could take days. The easiest way would simply be to talk to them." She spoke in that familiar tone of finality that I loathed so much.

"I think I'm willing to sacrifice a few more days if it means avoiding your Golden Boys." I tried to make my voice mimic her finalizing edge but failed miserably, making it sound like more of a First Year's unwitty comeback.

"Well I am _not_! Scrape up some nerve and get up off of your useless bum and go ask Harry or Ron how I died!" Granger's emotions were coming at me in waves of pressure. My hair was flowing behind me as her frustration was released from her, somehow causing the wind to rush about.

"You shouldn't allow your emotions to build up so negatively." It was a lame retort; I'll be the first to admit it to myself (just myself, though).

She took a step forward. I moved a step back.

"We're leaving. Now."

And suddenly I couldn't move. Not an inch. My mouth was glued shut, my muscles remained relax, but the neurons weren't reaching the receptors. My arms were not obeying what my mind was telling them to do.

When Granger's voice sounded in my mind, '_You should have listened in the first place,_' I nearly lost my grasp on reality in a full-out crash of fury. I could think still, so in moments I was yelling (well, thinking) every obscenity in the book, letting Granger know just how angry I was. I hoped to Merlin that she could hear my raging thoughts.

How _dare_ she use me as some type of physical medium! How come this hadn't been mentioned in one of the hundreds of books I'd been skimming? What was _wrong_ with this wench!? Did she have no boundaries? I was fuming as I began moving, against my will, and a girly, triumphant, laugh resonated throughout my mind.

My feet were leading me out of the front door but my mind remained empty of Granger although I continued to vent within the confines my mind. Hopefully she could hear my screaming thoughts and they were on track to give her a migraine.


	7. Reunions

**A/N**: As I skim through this, I realize that most of it is dialogue. I apologize for how short this is, but I apologize even _more_ for how long it's been since I've last updated. My creative juices are at an all time low. Hopefully you enjoy this, however, and stick with the story, despite the fact that it may be a while before I upload the next chapter. Huge thank you _everyone_ who's reviewed/alerted/favorited. Update: If you've read this previously, you'll see that I changed Albus to James - I wanted Ginny and Harry to have their first son, not their second, to be about four years old.

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**Flowers from a Grave:** Reunions

Somehow I –we– made it to the front of a house near the Leaky Caldron in, you guessed it, muggle London. It was a decent size, but considering the location the negatives outweighed all positive aspects of the home. As my hand rose and was forced to knock on the door, all I could do was watch in fury. Granger was not getting off the hook on this one.

When the door opened and Granger was suddenly next to me it took a few moments to register that I was, once again, back to controlling my own body. Thankfully, Potter spoke up before I unleashed my anger on Granger-who-wasn't-there in front of her best friend.

"What are you doing here?" Clearly Potter's manners hadn't improved over the two years since the last time we'd spoke. Although our dislike for one another had been somewhat neutralized when the war ended, it by no means gave me a reason to stop by Potter's house for small talk. Unfortunately, Granger had no sense of social boundaries. The controlling wench.

"I need information," I replied, not having an alternative. There was no way I was going to run away once Potter had already seen me. I didn't bother to hide my glare to the invisible girl to my left. She, however, was completely focused on her best friend and disregarded my death glare. The nerve of her…

"Information about what, Malfoy?" Scarface didn't bother to hide his annoyance with me. I was struck by the immaturity of him.

"The war," I continued with my curt responses. If he was going to be rude, I sure as hell wasn't going to be polite. Potter narrowed his eyes at my response, gripping the door handle with discontent.

"I don't know what you're up to, Malfoy, but you sure as hell aren't going to learn anything that may help you from me. The information from the war is confidential and you of all people should know that." Potter's face was tight, his jaw clenched.

"What's it you're inferring, Potter?" I stood up taller in defense, outraged by his response. If Potter thought he would be able to speak to me like that he had another thing coming.

"I'm just reminding you of your place in society, Malfoy. You must be aware of how this would look to the public – snooping around to find out information years after the war." Potter looked smug with his response, but I was fuming. If he was going to stand there accusing me of keeping ties with the dark side I was going to defend myself until he got it through his thick skull-

"I'm sorry Harry. Excuse my rudeness. I would prefer if we could start over, my intentions are not tainted." My mind was interrupted by my mouth, which I no longer had control over. Bloody _hell_ this woman was going to get it. She was _so_ lucky I couldn't hex her into next year.

"You're so dead!" I said, surprised that it was spoken aloud and not in my head. Potter's expression changed from confused to affronted in a matter of seconds, but I no longer cared. This was unacceptable.

"Get out of me!" I nearly yelled, trying to regain control of my limbs. Seconds later Granger was beside me again.

"You are _not_ making this easy for us! You are being a bloody prick! This could have been easy, but nooo – you just _had_ to provoke him!" Granger yelled in anger. I turned to her in absolute fury.

"If **you **hadn't brought me here in the first place none of this would be happening! He's about to call St. Mungo's! You're manipulative, controlling, self-centered, psychotic, and… insane!" I had enough of this. There are boundaries. Controlling me was crossing those boundaries and she had to learn that.

"Stop it, now!" Potter's voice interrupted our spat and my heart raced in my chest. I hadn't been this angry in ages, and of course it would be thanks to the Gryffindor control-freak.

"What the bloody hell is your problem, Malfoy? My wife and children are in there and the last thing I need is an insane dark wizard poking around my family." Potter had shut his front door and was glaring daggers at me, as if this was _my_ fault.

"You've got a family?" Hermione said slowly, sounding interested and… sad. My eyes flashed over to her for moments before flicking back to Potter. She looked upset but I decided that caring was not something I wanted to do right now.

"Who killed Granger?" I wanted to leave. Being blunt would be the only way to make this quicker. Potter looked taken aback by my question and his suspicion increased.

"What's it to you?" Potter was now not only angry but also becoming defensive.

"Charming way about _that_ one!" Granger spat at me. I pointedly ignored her. We were going to go about this _my_ way.

"I've recently been researching the final, fatal, spell that hit her, you know which one the… ah…" I trialed off, hoping to give Potter an opening to be his usual self.

"Yes, yes, the _Intrafundo __Curse_." Ah, arrogance at its finest. I smirked.

"That's the one." I allowed my eyes to flash in Granger's direction to see her jaw slack in surprise.

"Since the curse is not commonly used in… civil atmospheres I've had to dig deep to look into the few cases of wizards and witches that had the misfortune of experiencing the curse. This led me to two others and, now, you." I thought it sounded damn convincing, especially for coming up with it on the spot.

"And what aspect of the curse are you trying to analyze." Suspicion laced his voice.

"The possible lasting effects the curse may have on… er… the environment. Specifically, the effects of her individual case at the moment," I said on the spot.

"The _environment_?" Granger asked incredulously.

"The _environment_?" Potter asked almost at the same time as Granger, in the same tone of voice. I stood silent for a moment, fighting the urge to look between the two and make a comment.I saw Granger smile out of the corner of my eye.

Instead of trying to come up with another brilliant excuse, I shrugged, hoping Potter would just listen to us already.

"She has a name," Potter spat out, his attitude completely unprovoked. Potter always did have a short temper. I sighed in impatience.

"I know her name, I just need to know-,"

"Harry, why haven't you invited- oh." Great! A Weasley! Just what I bloody well needed…

"Ginny!" Granger's voice said in excitement, and she took a step up the porch. Suddenly, as if there weren't enough Potters around, a small boy who looked no older than five poked his head around his mother's legs. Great – a spitting image of Potter.

But Granger's reaction was what held my attention. She gasped, eyes wide, and knelt down in front of boy. She nearly held her hand out but thought better of herself and ended up covering her mouth, holding in a sob. The boy looked directly where her eyes were and then looked up at me.

"Who're they mommy!" He tugged on her sleeve. I cocked a brown in impatience. We at least had _some _of the information we needed and-

"Draco! He said 'they!'" I narrowed my eyes in curiosity and looked back at the boy.

"It's no one, James. Ginny, take him inside, we were just finishing up out here." Potter voice's was stern.

"Hi," Hermione said cautiously as I watched, transfixed.

"Hi," he said back reluctantly and my jaw dropped. How in the _hell_…

"James, come on now…" Weasley – well, Potter, now – grabbed his hand to leave.

"Wait!" I said to her, which seemed to surprise her as much as I surprised myself. She stopped moving.

"I'm Hermione," Granger said gently, sending him a smile.

"That's a funny name!" The kid started laughing. I snorted, I couldn't help it, and Granger flashed a glare at me.

"Ginny: inside, now," Potter's eyes hadn't left mine and I realized I'd been staring at his kid. Well if this wasn't awkward and remotely creepy, since Potter had no idea that there was another person in the vicinity, and that I _hadn't_ been staring at his child for no good reason.

Weasley left and the boy waved to Hermione, whose look of disbelief didn't falter. I looked back up at Potter who was, naturally, livid.

"I think I'll be going now." I said awkwardly, knowing that his tolerance had ended the moment his kid had come into the scene.

"Don't come back here."

"Wouldn't think of it," I said with a nod of my head and my traditional smirk. I turned on my heel and heard the door slam.

* * *

As soon as the door shut behind him Harry rushed to the living area, where she was sure James and Ginny were. Ginny was sitting cross-legged next to James, who was whirling around a toy wand.

"James, look at me," Harry knelt down in front of his son and into his eyes to check for any signs of a curse or spell.

"James, who were you talking to."

"The nice lady! She was right there, daddy!" he smiled brightly and giggled a little, as if the answer was plain as day.

"Who? There was no lady James. Ginny, there wasn't anyone-!" Harry's insides were turning into ice. Malfoy must have cursed his son!

"Herminnie!" James said with a smile. "She had a funny name!" Harry's jaw dropped. Ginny gripped his hand.

"What did you say?" Harry gently took the toy out of his son's hand, catching his full attention.

"Herminnie, daddy! Can I have my wand?" He reached out for it but Harry didn't respond.

"Sweety, what did this lady look like?" Ginny's voice was on edge, and her eyes caught Harry's in a fierce gaze.

"Mommy! I want my toy!" he looked sadly at Ginny, confused because he didn't know what else to tell his parents.

"Harry, give it back," Ginny said slowly. Harry's hand moved on its own accord, his mind racing. He stood up quickly and reached for a frame on one of the shelves in the room.

"James, was this who you saw?" He held up the image firmly, knuckles white.

"Yeah! Herminnie!"

The frame fell to the floor with a small '_thud.'_


	8. Not Quite Progress

**A/N: **I am so sorry. It's been almost ONE YEAR. ONE YEAR? How did that even happen? I didn't realize the gap until about two hours ago when I looked at my profile and then felt the extreme need to update, so here it is. You can consider this reassurance that I do not plan on abandoning this story. I need to stress my apology. I love any of you that are actually returning after a year, and thank all of the new readers for checking the story out and getting this far.

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**Flowers from a Grave:** Not-Quite Progress

"He saw me! Did you see that, Draco? He saw me!" Granger was prancing around the sidewalk in circles, nearly shrieking in delight. I was thankful that no one could see her.

"Great, great. Now how about that curse, yeah? Let's run to the book store." I wanted anything but to think more about any Potter, whether it was the older one or the midget of the family. A Potter-free mind was a good mind!

Of course, it was already evident that I am a natural repellant of good-fortune.

"Malfoy!" Potter's barking voice filled my ears. I stopped and gave an exasperated sigh, but turned around nevertheless.

"What've you done to my son? What did you do?" His wand was out and he had grabbed my collar before I even had the chance to reach for my own wand. I narrowed my eyes and shoved him off of me, but he kept his wand pointed at me indiscreetly – we _were_ still in muggle London after all.

"Oi! I haven't done anything. It's not my problem if your kid shares my undesirable, infuriating sixth-sense!" Draco was not too keen on having a wand pointed at him, considering he was unarmed. "And put your bloody wand away!"

"What do you mean, sixth sense? I swear, Malfoy, if you've cursed my son I'll-,"

"I mean seeing dead people, Potter!"

"That's from a muggle movie, you know?" Hermione piped in, sounding a bit surprised. I pointedly ignored her. Of course I knew, but she didn't have to _know_ that I knew.

"I'm pretty sure I'd know if my son could see dead people on a normal basis, Malfoy. Then _you_ show up and suddenly he can see Hermione? He's barely old enough to understand what happened to her, let alone know who she is."

"Tell him I'm here," Hermione finally interjected with something useful, nearly jumping up and down where she stood in anticipation.

"No," I said quickly, sounding like a two-year-old, but Granger couldn't always get what she wanted! Especially after that body-control stunt she had just pulled. I turned to Potter as if I had been talking to him, "No, I didn't do that; he must have heard us talking about her."

"Tell him I'm here or I will!" Granger stomped her foot on the ground, pouting. I sent her a 'did you really just do that?' look, accompanied by a grin that I didn't know I was capable of wearing.

"Now you think this is _funny_?" Potter grew more infuriated, but I chose to ignore him, opting to (for some unknown, inexplicable reason) stare at Granger as she recovered from the surprise of my less-than-mean-somewhat-playful antic that I didn't often toss her way.

"What are you looking at? This is serious!"

"Yes, yes, very serious… All of which could be easily fixed if you simply told me who killed Granger!"

"Professor Plum, in the Hall, with the lead pipe," Granger mumbled, as Potter began to rant more. The corner of my mouth twitched a bit, but I remained silent.

"Why do you need to know, Malfoy? Why should I even tell you? You _cursed_ my _son_!" I sighed in defeat.

"Look, Potter, Gr-" And suddenly I was out of my own control. Again.

"Hermione is inside of my body right now. Actually, Harry, it's me – talking to you… through Malfoy. Somehow your son (James, was it?) was able to see me, and for some cursed reason the only _other_ person who can see me is this ferret." I pointed at myself.

_Granger you're dead!_

"Thanks for reminding me," Granger's voice rang out from beside me. I took a step towards her before remember I couldn't do anything to her anyways (not that I would, of course); the intimidation aspect of the move dies when it is literally futile. Instead, I opted to just yell.

"Stop _doing_ that!"

Granger stuck her tongue out. "We both know you weren't going to do anything yourself."

"That doesn't mean you can just jump inside of me whenever you want to! Bloody hell, why did I get stuck with you! She likes to do that, take over my body," I growled, angrier than even the first time. Bother me, talk non-stop, and torture me with orders: fine. Take control of my body: _not_ fine.

"Wait! Stop this! Stop this now!" Potter looked confused and very frustrated. "What makes you think I would _ever_ believe you, Malfoy?"

"Tell him this, ready?" Hermione looked serious for the first time since we had arrived.

"Granger is telling me to say something to you," I nodded at Granger for confirmation before starting up again.

"Hufflepuff's cup, Riddle's diary, Gaunt's ring, Regulus and the locket…"

"Hufflepuff's cup, Riddle's diary (the isn't Riddle the Dark Lord?), Gaunt's ring, Regulus and the locket, Nagini (that thing was a monster – I once saw it eat… nevermind), er, and Ravenclaw's diadem…" I recited after her, not entirely sure what any of this meant. Hopefully Potter believed that my confusion was genuine by the expression on my face.

"How do you know all of that?" he asked darkly, his own expression turning suspicious.

"_She told me to say it_." How many blood times did I have to spell it out for him?

"What are you up to Malfoy? I could have you thrown in Azkaban!"

"Well obviously that didn't work! Now what do I say?" I said quickly to the invisible Granger, who looked perplexed. As much as I didn't want to acknowledge her at the moment due to her intrusive and abrasive behavior, I wanted to be thrown into Azkaban even less.

"I-I don't know! That was supposed to work! Tell him about the Forest of Dean? When Ron left? Just say that…"

"She's saying something about the Forest of Dean… when Weasley left. And you got Godric's sword from a patronus? That doesn't even make sense, Granger!"

"Stop!" Potter finally interjected and I was relieved of this tedious, nonsensical task of reiterating for a dead girl. There was a long pause before he continued speaking.

"Say I believe you – say Hermione is standing right there," Potter pointed at what was to him an empty space but Granger to me. "What then?"

"Then you tell me how she died exactly, and by whom."

"What'll that do?"

"Make her go away, of course."

Silence.

"You want me to tell you how my best friend died so she can go back to being dead… that is, if she isn't at the moment, according to you?" Potter looked affronted at this preposition.

"That's the idea, Potter. She is in agreement with me that _this_," I motioned between myself and Granger, "isn't working out."

"But she'll die… again…" Potter looked confused.

"She's already dead," I reassured him of the fact.

"Then how can you see her?"

"Her… poltergeist is ('tsk') is following me around making my life a _living hell_ (-insert glare to Granger-), all because I made a small misjudgment that caused her spirit to be enraged to a point of… existence. However, as we've recently learned, this could only have occurred if she had died in a state of incompleteness or by the hands of a dark curse. Thus, I need to discover this dark curse in order to figure out exactly how she has appeared and how to make her go away. I simply want her to rest in peace." I added the last bit with hopes to sound less self-oriented. Potter just stared at me. Again.

"What a pathetic excuse, Malfoy. I'm quite sure it's _you_ who wants to rest in peace," Hermione said disapprovingly, and I just shrugged. She was right, of course. A full night of sleep without her voice would be to kill for right now. (Kill, not die, because dying really isn't my fancy.)

"What did she say?" Harry asked hesitantly, because even asking the question meant that he might actually believe me.

"Basically that I was a selfish prat. Nothing I haven't heard before." I tried to look indifferent, but somehow whenever Granger was the one throwing insults they still bothered me a bit. Of course, Potter smirked at my reply in obvious agreement with her. I didn't even bother to try and hide my scowl.

Great. Now I had _two_ Gryffindors tailing me around London making me miserable.

"Look, if you could just give me – us – the additional information we need I can be on my way and you can pretend none of this ever happened," I snapped, still eager to leave. This was taking much too long! I still had things to do today… or, at least, wanted to do some things that did not include Potter.

"I-I don't know Malfoy," Potter looked bewildered, his eyebrows furrowed while he thought everything over. "Say I believe you… do you think there is any way to-to bring Hermione back to life rather than sending her back to wherever she's been?"

A heavy silence filled the area (at least the most silence that I'd been graced with since we decided to bring Potter into the mess). I looked over to Granger to get her answer, deciding that anything I said that originated from me would probably only irritate Potter more and make this conversation last even longer.

"We need to research to find out more. I would say no, since I haven't got a corporeal body anymore…" I sighed at the information but relayed it to Potter. His expression turned even more conflicted at this, however, and he pursed his lips.

"There was no body when she died." Potter's revelation resulted in my own jaw dropping and Granger's mouth to start moving.

"What do you mean, no body? What happened to me? How did they know I was dead? Why do I have a grave if there wasn't anything to put into it?"

"Granger has questions for you. I'll summarize and ask the big one: are you sure she actually died since there was no body as evidence? If she wasn't dead then there would be one viable explanation for why she's decided to haunt me."

"I-I watched it happen! She was there, a curse hit her, and then she was gone. Her wand was left behind along with some ashes and-and the bag that she always carried. As soon as it happened we disabled the Death Eater who fired the curse; he never even had the opportunity to send another. When we checked the wand we found that _Intrafundo_ was the last spell cast. We-we asked a specialist about the curse, and even after she told us Hermione had died we searched for her for another year and found nothing. None of the captured Death Eaters knew a thing, even when questioned under Veritaserum. I-I don't think she can still be alive, but…"

I felt my body jerk forward as Granger jumped into me anxiously. Just this once I wasn't _too_ upset by her invasion, deciding that being a human translator would not be fun in this situation. Sometimes Granger couldn't shut up, and this was one of those times. I felt my mouth moving and half-listened impatiently while Granger conversed with Potter using my voice and face. Ugh. What had my life become?

"Stop moping and pay attention, Malfoy!" I heard myself say in a voice that I would never dare to use. It was quite effeminized and I was sure that my ears were turning red from the humiliation of just _hearing_ it. Nevertheless, I stopped my train of thought and listened to the conversation.

"The specialist said that the Intrafundo Curse literally… well, it tears up a person from the inside out. She said that there usually isn't a body left once the curse is complete."

"What do you mean 'complete', how is the curse completed?" I felt Granger's spark of hope and knew that this was not going in a good direction. I tried to mask my own concern from Granger's invading soul-thing, but wasn't really sure if it was working.

"I don't know, I don't remember the specifics. I do remember that the specialist, Mary Greta, explicitly said that you – er, Hermione – was most likely dead. When Dolohov was questioned under the influence of veritaserum he confirmed what the wand evidence showed." Potter was obviously trying to recall the facts from years before with difficultly.

"Dolohov? Him again?" Hermione (Draco?) said darkly, sounding put off by the information. "So not only did he mar me in the Department of Mysteries he also had the honors of finishing the job two years later."

"He got a kiss," Potter said, sounding frustrated. "We can't interrogate him again because there isn't anything left to interrogate." Hermione (via Draco) sighed heavily.

"Did you research what effects my defensive charms would have on the curse?"

"You had defensive charms up?" Potter's jaw dropped but the look on his face showed that the gears were turning in that (very small) brain of his.

"Its possible that I could have transported myself-,"

"Both of you stop," I finally interjected, feeling the need to clear the optimistic air the two good-doers had let loose. If I had to be the cynic, fine. "There is a very, very good chance that Granger is actually dead. I think we should look into this more before either of you begin to get your hopes up."

I looked pointedly at Granger, who had reappeared beside me and removed herself from my body when I spoke up. She looked as if she hadn't heard a word that I said. Perfect!

"Granger! I'm serious. Don't get too worked up over this theory." I didn't allow my hard gaze in her direction to falter. This could go very awry if optimistic could-be, what-if scenarios started planting themselves into her (or Potter's) head.

"Right," Potter added reluctantly, looking at Draco suspiciously again. Granger didn't say a word at first but her jaw was set.

"We're going to figure this out one way or the other, Malfoy, so how about allowing me a minute to pretend there is a chance I may not be dead?" Her tone was biting and I tried not to feel guilty (because I wasn't) for my negative outlook. Maybe a minute of false hope wouldn't be bad, but I couldn't help but be weary of hypothetical happy endings. Granger was bad enough – an insane Granger would undoubtedly be too much to handle, and she was going to drive herself mad if she consumed herself with the idea of, well, _living_. As of right now, the evidence was pointing in the direction of her being dead and she had to remember that, so if I had to be the 'bad guy' and remind her, so be it.

"Where can we find this specialist, Potter?" I decided to take the reigns and give Granger a momentary mental break.

"St. Mungo's, I would think. If she no longer works there I could look through the ministry files tomorrow when I go in."

"Right, we best be off then," I said dismissively and turned to finally leave. My attempt was hindered by Potter's grip on my shoulder, stopping me from walking away.

"Keep me updated, Malfoy, or else you'll be getting a visit from some high-up ministry officials within the next couple of days ready to either evaluate your mental state or interrogate you until you go mad." Potter's warning tone didn't go unnoticed and I narrowed my eyes at his threat. I didn't need this – not now, not ever.

"I'll be sure to do that, Potter," I spat sarcastically, pulling my shoulder out of his grip roughly. How dare he treat me like a criminal!

"Calm down, Malfoy. Its not as if I would let you _not_ inform him of updates, anyways. Tell him I said goodbye and that _I _promise we'll keep in touch," Granger finally spoke up from beside me and for some reason her words calmed me enough to civilly (or as civil as I could get) relay the message to Potter, who seemed to take it in stride.

Finally I was able to escape Potter-ville and continue with Granger on our 'quest' to cure her livelihood. It was a strange task, sure, but one that, after an almost unbearable hour-long interaction with Potter, I wouldn't want to do with anyone else. I tried not to dwell on the thought.


	9. Almost Admitted

**A/N:** Oh boy. No excuses. I just went back and edited the entire story, though. I've been pretty stuck and against my efforts the story began to follow a theme that I was trying very hard to avoid (because you all _insist_ on Hermione living, not that I've completely decided that particular bit yet!). Anyhow, I think I've sorted out the problem soooo perhaps I'll be quicker next time. Regardless, I hope you enjoy the chapter as much as I do.

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**Flowers from a Grave: **Almost Admitted

We, _I_, walked through the St. Mungo's public entrance with mixed feelings. It wasn't every day that you had the slim chance of sending your former enemy back to being dead or bringing them back from the dead.

"We should head up to the fourth floor, for spell damage," Granger said knowingly, and I pointedly ignored her, not wanting to look mad in a hospital. Not that I was nervous or anything, but I'm quite sure I read somewhere that if you deny you've gone mad mediwzards are less inclined to let you out and, well, at the present time there was no solid proof that I _hadn't_ gone mad, although I knew I wasn't mad so… Well, I thought it best I didn't acknowledge the invisible person beside me, especially here.

"Hello, welcome to St. Mungo's. Can I direct you today?" the welcome witch at the front desk asked pleasantly, and I made a face at her bubbly attitude, making it clear that I didn't appreciate it.

"We're looking for a specialist. A one Mary Greta," I said in a no-nonsense tone, hoping the witch would drop some of her joyful bravado. This was a hospital after all, and people were most likely to be miserable when walking in (like me, for instance) and didn't want someone else's happiness rubbed in their face.

"Mary, Mary, Mary…" the witch said just as pleasantly as her greeting had been. She began to sift through some papers, waving her wand in every direction obviously not orderly enough to be doing her job.

"She's not very organized, is she?" Granger sounded a tiny bit annoyed, mimicking my thoughts. I was pleasantly surprised to hear that for once in our lives we agreed on something: this witch was disorganized _and_ annoying.

Almost an hour later (well, it _felt_ like an hour) she finally held up a timetable sheet and began scanning the paper.

"Here we are – the M's! Mary Greta: she isn't on schedule until… hmm… well, no one with that name seems to work here."

"Shouldn't you know who your co-workers include?" I asked impatiently. She had us standing here for ages, and for what? Nothing!

"Malfoy, don't be rude," Granger said in that _voice_ of hers. The one that screamed 'I know better than you.'

"Oy, shut up!" I spat out to my left, and immediately regretted it.

"Oh, deary me. Sir.." The welcome witch set down the piece of paper and looked directly at me with wide, concerned eyes, speaking slowing, "do you see Mary beside you right now?" I physically recoiled from the woman. Granger dissolved into a fit of laughter.

"Oi, no! Mary Greta is a specialist on dark curses! She used to work here – Harry Potter told me to come," I scrunched up my face in anger. She thought I was mad!

"_The _Harry Potter?" Her brows rose incredulously. "Dear, I think you're looking for the fourth floor, which specializes in spell damages," she said very slowly, accentuating the floor number as if I couldn't hear what she was saying.

"I know what the fourth floor is for, I can read you toad! I need to find out where Mary Greta has been transferred or retired to!"

"Malfoy! Let's just go up to the fourth floor like I suggested in the first place. I'm sure if anyone knows where she's moved to it's the people up there. This woman is obviously not going to be of any help," Granger's amused voice reached my ears and I narrowed my eyes at the stupid welcoming witch.

"Fine! We'll go to the fourth floor. But we're going because someone up there knows about Mary Greta, not because _you_ told me to," I said stiffly to the welcome woman, who nodded slowly, eyebrows now lowered in concern as if _I _was the crazy one.

I stomped off to the lift, which automatically opened when I reached it. I stepped in and leaned against the wall in a sour mood. This trip really couldn't have gone any _worse_. And Granger was _still_ bloody laughing!

"What? What is so funny?!" I spat out at her. Now that we were in the empty lift I didn't mind speaking to her aloud.

"You said 'we' to the welcome witch downstairs. She thinks you're barking!" Hermione giggled and I crossed my arms over my chest, regaining my composure.

"It was a logical mistake, considering," I said in an even tone, not saying anything further, knowing it would only fuel her amusement.

By the time the lift made it to the fourth floor Granger had regained control of herself and I made straight for the help desk, wanting to get out of this place more than ever.

"What can I help you with today?" the young mediwtich asked evenly, _not_ grinning like an idiot. I liked her already.

"I'm looking for a dark curse specialist – Mary Greta. She used to work here, or perhaps still does…?"

"Yes, Mary is currently on temporary leave, but does stop by weekly in order to compile research. She is working on composing her newest book." I sighed in relief, so glad that this woman knew who we were looking for.

"Is there any way to contact her? I'm having an emergency." The witch looked over me and I couldn't help but smirk. Yep, she was checking me out.

"She isn't checking you out, Malfoy, just looking for signs of the 'emergency' you mentioned," Granger said knowingly, and I turned to see the know-it-all-expression plastered on her face.

"Well if you can describe what's happening perhaps one of us could help you out?" The mediwitch suggested lightly, her eyes trailing down me again, a small smile on her lips. Okay, now _that_ time she checked me out. I smirked and Granger let out an indignant huff.

"I'm actually investigating for a friend of mine and, unfortunately, this is a case that requires Ms. Greta's specialized knowledge," I said professionally and the witch looked a bit put out. "However ('ugh, honestly, can you be any more of a prat?'), I wouldn't mind your help with some things that have _nothing_ to do with my health" I leaned forward on the desk and put on my most seductive expression. It works _every_ time.

"Oh?" she said flirtatiously, and I smirked. Jackpot. "Then, how about I get you Mary's address, and make sure to include my own while I'm at it."

"Are you free Friday evening?" I suggested nonchalantly, making it very clear that _I_ was the one doing her a favor here – if she said no, I would be just fine.

"Seriously, Malfoy? Did you forget that I'm still here?" Granger's annoying voice completely ruined the moment. I felt my face fall a fraction of an inch.

"Friday sounds great," the witch said happily, much more chipper than she had been throughout the rest of the conversation. She waved her wand at a blank piece of paper and two addresses appeared. She handed me the slip of paper along with a flirty smile.

"See you Friday, Mr. Malfoy," she said with a bit of a smirk on her own face. I cocked a brow but didn't comment, just nodded, and strutted away.

When the door to the lift closed I dropped the act and turned on Granger, who looked thoroughly peeved.

"You _know_ she only said yes because you're you," Granger said, not bothering to hide her emotions at all.

"Was that a compliment?" I said with a cocky glance her way. I knew I'd piss her off by doing that right in front of her. Nothing bothers Granger like being ignored.

"Hardly!" She let out an unattractive noise in protest. "I _meant_ because you have money."

"You don't know that. She's obviously intelligent enough to have become a mediwitch – it's more than _you_ ever accomplished," I said in defense, wondering what, exactly, her problem was with the woman. If I was going to admit it to myself this woman (I snuck a look down at the piece of parchment) _Kristin_ seemed much more competent than my usual company.

"That's say so much considering, you know, I _died_!" Granger's stance changed immediately from annoyed to angry.

"Details," I waved her off, rolling my eyes and preparing for the lift to stop on the ground level. I knew the batty old welcome witch would be on the lookout for signs of madness so I went back to ignoring Granger at all costs. The lift opened and we began to walk towards the exit.

"Doesn't that bother you? She seems a bit shallow," Granger said in a haughty voice. I shrugged. I didn't agree with her, anyways. From what I gathered Kristin was much less shallow than most of the girls I dated.

"I refuse to follow you around on another date. I swear to you that if you drag me, yet again, to one of your engagements I will cause _twice_ the scene I did the first time!"

"Because Merlin forbid I get a day to myself," I snapped at her, not willing to let her threaten a second date of mine. A date that, may I add, was with someone who probably had more than half a brain!

"See you again soon, sir!" the welcome witch spoke loudly as I exited out the doorway. I ground my teeth to stop myself from yelling back at her that I _wasn't_ mad. The first sign was denial, right? Ugh.

As soon as my feet hit the pavement I focused my mind on the manor and apparated to the library. I finally faced Granger, giving her my full attention now that we weren't in public.

"I don't see why I can't have a night off, Granger." I sat down on one of the chairs, irritated.

"Shouldn't we be focusing on allowing _both_ of us to have our own lives? If I'm not around you I literally cannot do _anything_. Since this was your fault to begin with I don't see why I should have to suffer alone. I let you sleep, don't I?"

"Oh, right, I forgot to _thank_ you for allowing me to sleep, how silly of me!" I said sarcastically. "This is bullocks – just because you're dead and haunting me that doesn't mean I should be prevented from living my own life."

"You seem forget that all of this is _your_ fault in the first place!"

"And _you_ seem to forget that maybe I did you a favor by taking those flowers. If you happen to be alive somehow I was the one who triggered whatever this is, giving us a chance to put you right again." Ahhhh… the sound of successful silence was beautiful. Granger and I held each other's gazes for a moment before she let out a sigh of defeat and sat down on one of the tables covered in books.

"How are you sitting if you can't touch solid objects?" I asked, curious. I figured it was safe to change the topic since I'd obviously won the debate.

"I, well, I don't know," she stood from her position and tried to touch the table. Not surprisingly, her hand went through it. When she went to sit on it again, however, she managed just fine.

"Try and sit on the air," I suggested, curious as to what would happen. "What if it only looks like you're sitting on the table because _you_ think you are? You see the table, so you position yourself there. You may not actually have to do that."

Granger shrugged and did as I suggested and before our eyes she was literally _floating_ in midair. Bloody awesome.

"Whoa," I commented, pleased that I'd been the one to discover this.

"Ugh, I don't like it," Granger said, not sounding nearly as impressed as I was by the discovery. She placed her feet back onto the ground and was now supporting a troubled look.

"What?" I asked, genuinely curious.

"When I do that I… Well, I feel like a ghost. And…"

"Ghosts are dead." I finished for her.

"Ghosts are dead," she repeated, looking longingly at the books on the table.

"But you're not transparent," I said hopefully. No, no, no. Not hopefully, practically. Hopefully would imply that I was more invested in her being alive than previously mentioned.

"Right," she said with a sigh, that ever-familiar air of determination resurfacing. She smiled at me, something that I'm pretty sure she'd never done before, and then gestured to the books. "The faster we figured this out, the sooner I'll be out of your hair."

"I'll get to writing a letter to send out to this Mary woman," I said stiffly, not really sure if getting Granger 'out of my hair' was the only reason for doing this anymore.

**Reviews appreciated. Thanks so much for reading.**


	10. Lessons

**A/N: **Aren't you so proud of me? More than one update per year (lol). But seriously I've been writing a lot lately and have the next two chapters done already. This one is short, but I think you'll like it - it's got the most Dramione so far. Thanks so much to sweetpdea and Claykalin who reviewed last chapter! (PS, you know what's difficult? Coming up with chapter names... bleh...)

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**Flowers from a Grave: **Lessons

The following afternoon I sent an owl with a somewhat vague message to Mary Greta informing her of 'new developments' in the Granger case of the _Intrafundo_ curse that needed to be addressed as soon as possible.

Needless to say I received a reply a mere two hours later. (For who could ignore Draco Malfoy?)

_Mr. Malfoy,_

_I am curious as to what these developments you speak of entail. I would be more than pleased to meet with you to discuss the curse. I understand your concern and urgency. However, I will not be able to meet with you for at least two weeks, as I am currently swamped with research for my newest book – _A Curse In Time. _Since you seem keen on the subject of dark curses, I would recommend buying a copy when it hits the shelves in September!_

_Please send me another owl on a later date (preferably after the book ships) and we can schedule a meeting that fits our schedules._

_Best,_

Mary Greta

I slammed the parchment down after reading it twice, surprised by the dismissal. Why were all of the women I'd interacted with this week completely mad?

"Didn't I you tell you to mention that meeting us would be a monumental step forward in the discovery of the full effects of the curse? I also told you to mention that it may be relevant to her current research!" Granger's know-it-all tone of voice was back and I rolled my eyes.

"I didn't think she would care about _that_. I told her I was in great need of assistance and that there were new developments. I figured that by keeping it vague I was not only perking her interest (what woman doesn't love the element of mystery, after all?) but also protecting you from possible post interception!" I explained rationally. It wasn't my fault that this type of woman – the scholarly type like Granger – wasn't affected by my normal charming antics.

"'Perk her interest?' You didn't even play to her interests – which is research, if you didn't get that from her currently career choice. You are so thick sometimes…" Granger shook her head, but not in disbelief. If anything, she looked as if she had _expected_ me to fail.

"Well if you're so brilliant why don't _you_ write her? Oh wait. You can't." I know it was petty, but her complete lack of the benefit of the doubt was uncalled for. I was officially the dim-witted one in her eyes, which was unacceptable by my standards.

"Very mature." She took a seat in the chair beside me and brushed off the comment. "Let's try again. This time, write exactly what I say…"

I muttered something along the lines of 'know-it-all,' but followed her lead and wrote what she wanted me to. Frankly, I found it to be too revealing and much too academic to incite the interest in _any_ living creature, let alone an intelligent one. Regardless, I sent the letter off.

We received the reply within the hour this time.

_Mr. Malfoy,_

_Is it possible that you are free this evening? I have prior appointments that I, unfortunately, cannot miss. I am extremely excited to solve this puzzle – an anomaly in a curse like this does not often happen and I am honored that you sought me out to experience it first hand._

Mary

"Ha!" Granger said, looking satisfied.

"Alright, you win. I suppose I'm not too surprised," I said resolutely. "Honestly, I'm just glad that we've finally made some headway in this." I gathered up another piece of parchment and scribbled down a meeting time, welcoming her to floo to Malfoy Manor library.

"I feel the same way. As much as I'm sure you want to fix this predicament, I think I'm a bit more invested in what she has to say than you…" she slumped into the chair. I hadn't really noticed before, but she looked a bit… _ill_. Her face was much paler than I remember it being in our school days. She had bags under her eye that could normally be attributed to lack of sleep, but considering the circumstances that couldn't be the case.

"Er, yeah." I didn't know what else to say. We fell into a bout of silence where I'm pretty sure Granger was thinking miserable thoughts. At least that's what the look on her face was conveying.

"I still don't want you to be dead, you know. Even if you care more than I do." It seemed like an appropriate thing to say. I'll be the first to admit that comforting people wasn't a talent of mine, and sympathy was something I often lacked.

"Thanks," Granger looked over at me thoughtfully. "While that wasn't necessarily a compliment I think it may have been the nicest thing you've ever told me."

"It was a compliment," I reassured her, not really knowing why I felt the need to do so.

"You need lessons, Draco Malfoy," Granger laughed and a genuine smile spread across her face. About bloody time.

"Yeah, well, I severely lacked those things considered 'proper parental units' that were meant to teach you the rules of being… _nice_."

"What do you mean? You had your mum and dad. Even I know that they had an influence on you."

"Sure, but hardly a good one," I admitted. I didn't know why but I felt comfortable spewing out these random bits of information to her. Maybe it was because she might be dead, or that I was positive she wouldn't tell anyone else. That had to be it.

"They taught you things, Malfoy, you just had to work harder to learn the lessons."

"How do you mean?"

"Well you had to learn how not to do bad things after you'd already learned to do them." I'd never heard it spoken aloud so bluntly before, but of course I understood. Hell, I could start listing examples.

"That was the easy way of learning. The most difficult bits were when I had to teach myself things from scratch."

"Like what?" she asked curiously, seeming to actually care for the answer.

"Like… well, like this I suppose," I said hesitantly, meeting her eye. She didn't look away. Rather, she seemed more than interested in the topic of conversation. "I've never talked about my… er, personal-er, _me_ before. I've never had anyone care enough to ask about how I'd grown up or learned the things I have. No one's ever seemed to care how or why I changed, just that I'd done it."

"I'm sorry," she looked oddly at me. I looked away, uncomfortable.

"You don't have to be and I don't need you to be. I'm happy with who I am." And that was the truth. Sure, I'd hit a few bumps in the road on the way, but my choices in the end were ultimately my own, and ended up being the right ones – the _good_ ones.

"But it'd be nice for people to maybe… I don't know… acknowledge it. I'm not saying that you deserve a badge for making the right decisions in life because you don't – there are good people that make good decision every day without having an internal struggle over it. You, however, _did_ have to struggle. I for one appreciate that you found the strength to do so. Otherwise I'd probably still be half-dead, or whatever state I was in before…"

Everything she said was true, of course. I know I haven't been the most moral bloke in the world, but I'd also wager that the villains didn't raise most of the moral individuals out there.

"Thanks, I suppose."

"You suppose?" she said jokingly. "I think I deserve to have you bow down to me once an hour, from here on out."

"The Dark Lord will be rolling in his grave, Granger," I said with a smirk.

"All the more reason. Get to it, oh pureblood superior!" She stood up and put her hands on her hips as if she was the Muggle Queen of England herself.

"Not a chance, Granger." There was no changing my mind. She merely laughed and dropped the stance before perusing about the stacks of books that filled the large room. For reasons that not even I could understand the next image that popped into my mind was one of me playfully tracking down the proud girl, and well… I stopped my mind from going any further. _The bloody hell was that about?_

I shook my head and opened the book that was nearest to me, unable to focus on a single word it said.

**Reviews appreciated!**


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